Toyota's Ever-Better Expedition

We’re flying some 18,000 feet above sea level, circling the awesome geomythic wonder that is Mount Denali. It is literally awesome, sublime in fact, in the way that its singular mass rising from the snowy plains instills the fear of the universe into your heart, while it simultaneously quiets your mind from thought.

Alaskan Wilderness

Nicolas Stecher

Even at this dizzying height we’re still some 2,000 feet below its southern summit, which is presently glowing in gold and pink hues that seem too perfect for words. It is the type of light capture that made Renoir a master.

Mount Denali

The cabin of the de Havilland Turbine Otter plane we’re flying is silent from our collective contemplation, the only sound the hum of the 750-horsepower Pratt & Whitney turboprop engines keeping us airborne. The stillness is profound. There is no wonder the Koyukon people consider Denali the palace of the gods; even an atheist cannot help but sense something holy emanating from the stone and glaciers rising out of the Alaskan wilderness.

The Tundra

The plane circles its peak, flying only dozens of feet from the vertiginous walls of Mount Hunter and the Sheldon Amphitheater around it; you can look down and see the geometric patterns from the melting glaciers, and the winding Susitna and Chulitna rivers carving their way through the tundra.

Alaskan Solitude

Nicolas Stecher

Although Denali, erstwhile known as Mount McKinley (strangely, considering the 25th president never stepped foot in the state), is world renowned, the surrounding area is almost terrifyingly remote. Want to have an idea of exactly how remote? The neighboring lands are serviced by the last “white flag” railroad in America. Meaning anyone can stand on the side of the tracks and wave a white flag, and the entire goddamn train will stop to pick you up. This is the type of place people go to disappear, forever.

Caravan

Nicolas Stecher

When we land the plane back at K2 Aviation in Talkeetna, we jump back aboard a caravan of Toyota trucks, vans and pickups and continue our journey — all part of what Toyota had dubbed its Ever-Better Expedition.

Ever-Better

Nicolas Stecher

Envisioned by CEO Akio Toyoda, the Ever-Better Expedition’s goal is to give Toyota engineers — both Japanese and American — real world experience driving their vehicles in the real world. So Akio planned a six continent tour of his fleet, one per year, and this was the brutal winter leg of the North American tour. Last year’s 12,500-mile trek across Australia took 72 days to accomplish.

Experiencing Alaska

Nicolas Stecher

We jumped aboard this rollicking second leg — traveling some 16,500 miles over 110 days — in Anchorage, and then drove straight north through some of the most untouched terrain left in America. But the idea wasn’t just to drive, it was to experience the land — and therefore Toyota’s customer base.

Dog Sledding

Following our flight around Denali, we visited Jerry Sousa of Sun Dog Kennel, one of the most renowned Iditarod dog sled mushers in Alaska, to see how they run their huskies. To say these guys train in abysmal conditions is an understatement. He told stories of overwhelming environmental and climate torture, the likes of which would shut down most Navy Seals.

Curling

Nicolas Stecher

There was also dinner at a tiny snow-enveloped restaurant called West Rib Pub, where we ate plates of reindeer lasagna and drank ice-cold pitchers of Midnight Sun Brewing Company’s magical Oosik Amber. There were lessons at the Fairbanks Curling Club (curling is way harder than it looks), and a final destination of the Chena Hot Springs. It is the home of the northernmost greenhouses on earth; juicy tomatoes, artisan lettuce and dozens of other produce are grown there with the help of renewable, endless geothermal heat from the springs.

Taking Shots

And lastly there was the Aurora Ice Museum: a giant hangar filled with sculptures from 16-time World Champion ice carver Steve Brice. Inside you could sleep in four rooms all made of ice, with reindeer pelt blankets and all natural refrigerators (literally boxes made of ice). We took shots at the ice bar, consumed as many apple martinis as they would give us and then stumbled off into the Hot Springs. Sadly, Alaska did not provide us with the Aurora Borealis that we had hoped to see — Pleasant Valley was covered in murky fog. But even in those 72 hours we had seen parts of Alaska that most people can only dream of.

End Of Journey

Nicolas Stecher

After leaving us at Chena, the team from Toyota continued onto Coldfoot and then across Canada, cold-weather testing in Timmins, Ontario, and on to Montreal, where the North American expedition wrapped. We wish we could've joined for more, but we had flights to catch back to the warm comforts of civilization.